Picture Perfect
by SoulSoother59
Summary: Ashley Heyman has spent years building up a reputation as a photographer on the independent circuits. When Vince McMahon offers her a contract, she signs on the dotted line. But how will Paul feel about his daughter taking the job without consulting him? How will Punk react to seeing Ashley all grown up? And why can't Ashley seem to stay away from Jon despite their rocky past?
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One - As If All Of Our Dreams Were Possible_

Vince McMahon had a firm handshake. In fact, Vince McMahon had a _very_ firm handshake.

This was Ashley's thought as he showed her from his office at WWE Headquarters in Greenwich, Connecticut, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. A pleased smirk crossed his lips and he closed the door behind him, the two falling into step next to each other as he escorted Ashley down the hallway. They approached the elevators and Vince reached out to press the button to call for it.

"I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you have agreed to sign a contract with us. I've been privileged enough to witness your work with other promotions and I am quite sure you'll be an asset to the company," he patted her shoulder gently.

"Well, you know as much as I do that it's always been my dream to work for the company. The travelling schedule will take some getting used to but I'll adapt. I always do," Ashley smiled at him.

Vince nodded, agreeing with her. The hallway was silent, save for the rhythmic typing that came from Vince's personal secretary, who was seated about 40-50 feet down the corridor from them. The elevator doors sprang apart as it arrived at the top floor and Ashley stepped inside.

"Make sure you give my best to your father."

He clasped his hands in front of him and pulled his shoulders back, forcing himself into a tall stance, a salacious smirk forming on his lips.

"Oh I will," Ashley nodded at him, her eyes falling to the flap of the satchel that she carried on her shoulder. The doors shut and she journeyed down to the lobby, pulling back the flap of her satchel to place her brand new contract inside. Coming by one of those was like stumbling upon gold dust - there was no way she was running the risk of losing it.

Having spent years building a reputation for herself in the indies - where she was quite happy - Ashley was actually surprised to receive the call from Vince McMahon asking her to meet with him at her next available date. After having heard his proposal, she was still quite apprehensive about taking on the role within the company. It was a big step for her but more than anything, she feared her father's reaction. It was no secret that he had never wanted her to be involved with the wrestling business. While he loved what he did, her father hadn't always had the easiest of times working in the business and he had been insistent upon Ashley choosing a different path in life. She could only imagine how he would feel about what she had done.

* * *

Ashley parked her car in the private lot around the back of the Thomas and Mack Center in Las Vegas, Nevada. She could feel butterflies in her stomach as she approached the arena, nervous about her first night on the job. She had no doubts that she was capable of fulfilling the role, nor had she any doubts that she was the best person for the job - she was still simply worried about her father's reaction to her being there. As she approached the designated entrance at the back, she showed her access pass to the butch guard standing by the door. He had biceps bigger than her head and could easily crush her with one hand - something that Ashley didn't even want to think about. Passing through the door, Ashley took a deep breath of the musky air inside the arena. It had been a long time since she had been inside one so big and filled with so many people.

It was practically pandemonium inside the arena. Sound techs, backstage hands, road agents, personal assistants and on-screen talent were all moving about in different directions, all with places to go, people to see or things to do. Ashley tried to move through the chaos, causing as little disruption as possible on her way. Laden down with three different bags proved that it was hard to move unnoticed through the crowds and she soon attracted the attention of several people around her. Whispers sprang up around her. In truth there were many employees of the company within the building but it was easy to pick out an outsider when they showed their face.

She moved as quickly as possible, finding her way through the winding corridors, heading in the direction of the green room. It was an ideal place away from the hustle and bustle to get set up for her first night.

* * *

Hooking the thick strap over her neck, Ashley held her Canon camera in front of her. It was practically brand new and she'd purchased it especially for her new role. Having saved for months upon months, the young photographer figured that with her new secure form of income, she could afford to splurge out on the model she'd been eyeing up since it's commercial release a few months prior. It felt comfortable in her hand and wasn't overly large - something that was essential for her to be able to do her job. Ashley hooked a second strap across her neck; another Canon camera, however, an older model this time. It boasted her telephoto lens for in-ring close ups and would do the trick just as good as her newer one. Like any good photographer, Ashley believed in the mantra that it wasn't how good the equipment was but how good the photographer was. But it was always a nice little bonus to have the newer and sleeker version to use.

Concentrating on her camera settings and adjusting some of them, Ashley was oblivious to the door opening and the voices which filled the room. With her mind focused on the task at hand, she only became aware of the other occupants when an elbow connected with the back of her head.

"Ouch!" Ashley leaned forward, emitting a wince followed by a deep sigh. "Do you mind?!" she stood up, turning to face the culprit, only to be faced with her father, Paul Heyman and his on and off-screen client, Phillip 'CM Punk' Brooks.

"Sorry," Punk tried to apologise to her. "I didn't really-"

"Ashley!" Paul proclaimed. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

"Dad!" Ashley exclaimed, stepping forward to receive a welcoming hug from her father. Despite being Paul Heyman's daughter, there was no denying that Ashley took after her mother - an old girlfriend of Paul's he met whilst working up through the independent promotions and trying to make a name for himself. Her raven locks which were slashed into a sharp graduated bob around her face and had thick side-swept bangs brushing her brow bone were a mixture of her mother's and father's, who both had dark hair. Her eyes were a stunning green colour that she took from her Mediterranean mother along with her naturally tanned skin which she had also inherited from her.

Punk watched the scene unfold in front of him with a strange mixture of confusion and amusement. He'd never seen Paul embrace anybody on the road with such a sense of enthusiasm and it puzzled him. He studied the young woman's face from where it was perched on Paul's shoulder and he got the feeling that he knew her from somewhere. She was strangely familiar to him but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"I-well," Ashley began to speak, her fingers curling around one of the cameras that were hanging from her neck. "I tried to get in touch with you first but-"

"But what, Ashley?" Paul demanded. There was a slight tick occurring in his forehead, something that Punk had only been witness to when Paul was severely angry with someone.

"Surprise! I'm the new ringside photographer."

_END OF CHAPTER_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two - Through The Looking Glass_

Ashley let out a nervous laugh. She allowed the camera in her hand to slide down the strap that it was hooked onto and hang by her side, stretching her arms out towards her dad.

"I knew it. I knew that this would happen," Paul pulled his arm away from her, gritting his teeth as he spoke. " I knew that Vince would do this!" he hissed out the owner of the company's name.

"Dad, listen-"

"There is nothing to listen to!" Paul's voice rose as he pointed his index finger at his daughter. His eyes were wide and bulging from his face, a clear sign that he was furious with her. "You went behind my back. You know how I feel about you working in this business, Ashley," he sighed angrily.

Punk started to back away from the warring father and daughter duo. Now that he knew who Ashley was, he found himself quite shocked. The last time he had seen her Ashley had been a teenager with lanky limbs, buck teeth and spotty teenage skin. And now she had grown and matured into this sophisticated 25 year woman in front of him.

"Maybe I should leave you two-"

"You stay right there!" Paul turned his eyes to his client, pointing his finger at him before returning his gaze to his daughter.

Punk held his hands up with his palms facing Paul, an amused smirk crossing his lips. Ashley caught his gaze and the smirk on his lips grew slightly before she turned away.

"I'm waiting on an explanation from you," her father folded his arms tightly across his chest, raising a dark eyebrow at Ashley.

"Dad," she groaned. "I'm not sure we have time for a full explanation. Why can't you just accept that this is what I've chosen to do?"

"Do you know how many times I risked my life for this business? How many times that I almost lost everything just trying to make ends meet? I put everything on the line to make a career for myself and make a name for myself, Ashley! I have never wanted you to have to do the same thing! I worked hard to put you through college so that you could have a better life than the one that I had. And you expect me to accept that you're just throwing it all away just like that?!" he retorted.

Ashley shook her head. His words packed a punch and she knew that he was just concerned for her well-being but she also knew that there was no way she was going to be able to make her father understand her point of view. He would never be able to accept that she loved this business almost as much as he did. And that all she had ever wanted to do was be a photographer for the WWE.

"I don't have time to stand here and argue with you, Dad," Ashley responded apologetically. Moving around her father and Punk, she made her way to the door of the green room. "I'll see you out there," she told him.

"I am not finished with you, young-" Paul sighed as Ashley closed the green room door behind her before he could finish.

* * *

Standing ringside, Ashley glanced around the arena which was still half empty. Fans were beginning to eagerly fill the seats, buzzing with excitement for the episode of Raw following the Royal Rumble. Many of the fans were looking forward to CM Punk's reaction to his dropping of the title to Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. And of course, there were many fans of The Rock out there who wanted to be witness to him holding the title belt for the first time in over 10 years. The young photographer didn't really have an opinion of the events which had occurred at the Royal Rumble - she'd not actually watched any WWE programming in several months - her mind solely focused on climbing the ladder on the indie circuit. But if she knew anything of the wrestling business, she knew that Punk had been screwed out of that title. A superstar who worked 24/7 all year round to entertain his fans, was far more deserving of a title belt than one who had just swanned in after years being inactive on the roster.

Testing her camera settings, Ashley snapped a few photographs of the empty ring, wanting to make sure her exposure was right for the lighting in the arena. There was nothing worse than photographing a whole show only to find out that the snaps were useless; either completely black from under-exposure, blue or green because her white balance wasn't set to correct the exposure against the type of lighting or being totally white from over-exposure.

There was one other ringside photographer who would mostly act as a back-up for Ashley. He had been working WWE shows on and off for about 7-8 months and so he knew how everything really worked. Ashley had briefly introduced herself to him before she went off on her own, walking around the ring to test different angles.

"You must be the new photographer?" Ashley climbed down from one of the turnbuckles that she had been standing near to see Justin Roberts behind her. He steadied her as she stepped down and smiled at her once she was safely back on the floor.

"What gave that away?" Ashley sarked as she fiddled with the camera in her hand before letting it hang by her side. Thrusting a hand out towards him, she introduced herself. "I'm Ashley. Ashley Heyman."

Justin shook her hand. "Heyman? As in-"

"Yes, my dad is Paul Heyman," she cut him off. It was the natural state of events. Whenever Ashley introduced herself, it was easy for people to deduce who her father was. And sometimes it caused them to build an idea of her in their heads before they even knew who she was. "But I hope you won't hold that against me, Justin. My bark is worse than my bite," she teased.

Justin gave a slightly nervous laugh. "Well, I look forward to working with you, Ashley Heyman."

"Likewise," the raven haired photographer cocked her head to the side as she watched Justin walk off to his chair by the timekeeper's box. Turning back to the ring, Ashley approached Scott; the other photographer and struck up a conversation about how he handled the traveling schedule as she awaited the show starting.

* * *

Ashley was having a blast out by the ring. There was definitely no comparison between the atmosphere at a WWE show and any other form of professional wrestling live event. The crowd had went nuts when CM Punk had stomped through the curtain and marched down to the ring, shouting at the camera men to get away from him. And then he gave a rather enigmatic speech within the ring about how he had been robbed of his title, vowing that he was still the champion and that he would take back what was rightfully his when he next stepped inside the squared circle with The Rock. Vince McMahon had of course interrupted him, informing him that he had not been screwed out of the title per the terms of their agreement before the show and that his manager, Paul Heyman, would be subject to a performance review that very same night.

As the night wore on, the photographer was truly in her element. She wore the black headset and was fed information on certain pictures that the company wanted for the website. Other than that, she and Scott were allowed free reign to snap away from as many different angles as they liked. Sometimes she got in as close as possible, wanting to photograph the reactions on the superstars' faces and at other times she took wide angled shots to get the whole ring in the image, using both her lower stance and climbing the steel steps to change the angle of view.

When her father came out for his 'on-screen' performance review, Ashley found herself standing quite stationary and not being snap happy. There was no reason to continuously snap images of her dad and Vince McMahon when all they were doing was having a conversation.

However, that all changed when just as Vince was about to 'kayfabe' fire her father, Brock Lesnar's music hit the air and Ashley found herself with a shiver running up her spine. Drawing her eye away from the viewfinder on her camera, she brought her green gaze to the stage, where the man himself had just appeared. She was shocked. This was something she had not been expecting. Her father had worked with Brock Lesnar for the majority of the man's career - advising him through his rapid rise to fame with the WWE and then with UFC as well. Ashley had met the man on several occasions when she traveled with her dad and agreed that his off-screen persona was nothing like his violent alter-ego. Watching with rapt attention, she kept her camera positioned just below her eyes as Brock stalked down the ring, his eyes on Vince and Paul inside the ropes. He circled the ring, passing by her, his gaze lingering as he realised who she was. Ashley had to kick herself back into gear and she brought her eye back to the viewfinder, beginning to snap away as Brock climbed inside the ropes. She watched as her father tried to plead with him, insisting that he had it under control but Brock just demanded that her father stand in the corner of the ring while he faced off against Vince McMahon. Neither showed any modicum of fear as they came nose-to-nose and Ashley climbed up onto the apron near the turnbuckle to get a closer shot. Mr McMahon warned Brock that he shouldn't do something that he would regret but Brock only smirked before he forced Vince onto his shoulders and delivered a devastating 'F-5' to the owner of the company. Ashley clicked away, getting photographs of the finishing move being performed, Vince's reaction as he lay flat out on the mat, Brock's reaction and over course, her own father's very oversold and melodramatic reaction.

As the show went off-air, the fans were on the edge of their seats, desperate to know what was going to happen. Ashley was almost buzzing with excitement, so happy that her first show had went down without any major issues and that she had been witness to such brilliant action. She and Scott practically skipped off to the back, itching to see their photographs and animatedly chatting about what had happened at the show.

Paul watched his daughter leave as he and Brock climbed the ramp side-by-side and an ambulance arrived to wheel out Vince. He let out a deep sigh. It was on nights like this that Paul feared his daughter working in the business. When he'd seen her climb onto the apron, his heart had been in his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't trust Brock or Vince or any of the talent, he didn't fully trust Ashley to not get herself into trouble. She was an excellent photographer but she would do anything to get the perfect picture - even sacrificing her own personal safety.

_END OF CHAPTER_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three - Remember Me?_

"I assume you've just forgotten about all the little people in your life then?" the low voice came from behind Ashley, tinged with a very faint tone of hurt. Blinking slowly, the young photographer glanced over her shoulder, her eyes resting on the chest of Colby 'Seth Rollins' Lopez. He wore his now familiar ring gear - the black combat trousers, the black military boots and the black short sleeved t-shirt covered by the protective black vest - almost SWAT-like in design. His hair - half black, half blonde - was secured with a tie at the nape of his neck. He carefully folded his arms across his chest, drawing Ashley's eyes to the thick muscles of his biceps and he raised an eyebrow at her.

A nervous smile tugged at Ashley's lips and she drew part of her bottom lip between her teeth before her face broke out into a fully fledged grin. She placed down the fish-eye lens that she had been holding in her hand and closed the distance between herself and Colby, practically throwing herself into his arms. He caught her easily and hauled her off her feet as he laughed deeply in her ear.

"Colby!" she laughed, her mouth pressed against the combed back strands of his hair.

Colby Lopez and Ashley Heyman had met when Ashley filled in for a sick photographer at a few Ring of Honor shows. She'd been very privileged to receive a call from their production manager. He'd told her that her name had been passed onto him and would she do him the biggest favour of being able to fill in for his resident snapper, who had come down with an unfortunate bout of food poisoning. Ashley had agreed on the spot and had immediately flown out from New York. Whilst Ashley had been working the ring with her camera, she had noticed Colby's curious eyes falling on her, himself unused to seeing a woman photographer at the side of the ring. He'd cornered her after the show and they'd struck up a friendship that had spanned the following years; both keeping in touch as they moved through different promotions. However, this meeting in Atlanta, Georgia, was the first time that they had seen each other in person in well over 2 years.

"You'd think someone was excited to see me," he chuckled as his arms easily surrounded her lithe frame.

Pulling back from the embrace and with her feet back on the ground, Ashley pressed her palms to the back of Colby's head, pulling him down to her level to press a kiss to each of his cheeks.

"I am," she admitted. "It's been way too long," she shook her head as he released his grip slightly, allowing her the freedom to breathe. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Ash," he told her sincerely, his eyes holding her green gaze. "Why didn't you tell me Vince had signed you to a contract?"

Lifting one shoulder, Ashley half shrugged. "I wanted to surprise you. At least this went down better than with my dad."

Colby's eyes widened slightly. "He didn't take it too well?"

"Oh Colby, I think he almost had a heart attack when I told him. He was practically foaming at the mouth, convinced that Vince had done this just to rile him up. You know, I get the feeling that maybe he did do it just to upset my dad a little bit but I'd like to think that my talent as a photographer was the deciding factor."

"Of course it was," Colby reassured her. "You're an amazing photographer. You've never had to rely on your father's name, Ashley, and you never will. Your work speaks for itself."

"That means a lot to me," Ashley told him. He unwound his arms from around her waist and at first she frowned but then another arm surrounded her. Her back was pulled tightly against someone's chest and she was yanked off of her feet and spun around in a circle, finally understanding why Colby had released her. A scream mixed with laughter tore it's way from the back of her throat and she gripped the strong forearm that crossed over her middle, digging her nails in slightly until he put her back of his feet. Swiveling, she was faced with Jonathan 'Dean Ambrose' Good's smirking face, his eyes hooded as he looked at her. "I hate you!" she ground out at him but couldn't fight the smile on her face. Colby laughed from behind her and she turned to draw him a glare before looking back to Jon.

"You wound me, Tink," his voice was deep and throaty and it sent a shiver up her spine. He placed a hand on his chest over the protective zip-up vest he wore. Their eyes met. Neither blinked. Neither moved. Ashley's smile began to waver slightly as she felt that familiar pull she always got when she was around Jon. The two had met several times over the course of a few years and throughout several different promotions that they had both worked for. They were friends now. But they'd once been more than that.

"You don't fool me," she shook her head at him, breaking the connection between them. Reaching out, Ashley pushed his shoulder and his chest rumbled with laughter before he swung his arm around her shoulder, his mouth pressing against the very tip of her head for a few brief seconds. He walked them back towards Colby and three stood slightly awkwardly in the centre of the corridor. Her skin burned from where's Jon's lips had brushed her forehead and tingles pooled at the base of her spine.

Three simultaneous laughs followed and Ashley pulled Colby closer, still with Jon's arm draped around her shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly twisting a lock of her hair around his finger.

"I missed you guys," she told them. "It's just so amazing that you've both finally been called up. I'm so happy for you."

"It's good that you're here too," Jon told her in that throaty pitch once more. She glanced up to find that he was already looking at her. Her breath hitched slightly and she removed herself from the three-way embrace.

"I have to head out to the ring but we'll need to have a proper catch up," she turned away from her two friends. Hooking her two cameras over her neck, she scooped up the bag of lenses that she had as well and turned back to them with a smile. "See you out there," she enthused before heading on her way.

* * *

Ashley held her eye against the viewfinder on her camera, her lens zooming in on a shot of Brad Maddox. He had appeared in the ring before the promo that John Cena had been due to cut; the latter having proclaimed earlier in the show that he was calling out the stable known as The Shield. Ashley waited with baited breath, listening to him drone on about how it was he instead who was going to bring justice to The Shield.

He glanced around the crowd, waiting on the three men making their appearance. His wish was granted when their theme song played out through the arena and they appeared through the fans, gradually descending the stairs that ran down through the crowd.

"Thanks for the invitation, Brad," Ambrose drawled. "But we don't need one," he added. "You want to be the hero? Nah, you're just a rat, scurrying the floorboards looking for scraps."

"Oh no, I'm not the only one who took money from Paul Heyman!" Brad sniped back, fury lacing his words. He had made the mistake of calling out the three piece and now he was beginning to regret his decision. He paced a circle in the ring, nerves kicking in as The Shield made it further to the ring.

"Hey, don't even compare yourself to The Shield," Ambrose told him. "Nobody ever said justice was free!"

Ashley stealthy approached the barrier that Dean and Seth would have to cross in order to reach the ring, her camera zooming in on their journey to the ring. The fans shouted and hollered at the two men but their voices were drowned out; muffled by Dean's mic work and by the general noise in the arena. A quick snap of both of their faces was next and Ashley lowered her camera, her eyes concentrating on the way Dean spoke and the way his hand curled carefully around the microphone he held. The raven haired photographer crouched by the barrier, swiveling to face Brad Maddox once more. He mumbled to himself in the ring and she caught it perfectly, her finger tapping at the shutter release two or three times.

The stable was taking their time to reach the ring, trying to evoke the fear of God into Maddox for calling them out. They didn't appreciate being summoned and they certainly weren't going to take it lying down.

Seth was next to bring his mic to his mouth.

"Maddox, you want to teach The Shield about justice? Do you even understand the concept of justice?" Dean and Seth approached the lower half of the stands, moving closer to the bottom of the steps. "Let me tell you what justice is!" Seth pointed his finger angrily at Maddox in the ring. "Justice is The Shield putting a fame hungry, stupid looking weasel like you in his place."

Ashley backed away from the barrier as the two men approached it. Dean stood aimlessly by Seth's side as the other man spoke, his gaze wandering through the crowd that was near him. Ashley tried not to focus on him but it was proving difficult.

"Justice," Seth continued, dragging the word out to draw attention to it. "Is us giving you the beating that you deserve," he added as Dean used one arm to easily hop over the barrier, his booted feet landing with a dull thud on the floor by the side of the ring. Ashley caught him leaping over the barrier, his strong arm supporting him.

"Last time, it was all business," Roman Reigns - the third member of the stable spoke up for the first time that night. "Tonight we're going to take the time to enjoy this, little tiny man," he started to laugh.

"See we just get the feeling that Brad Maddox doesn't believe in The Shield," Dean drawled with a sadistic smirk crossing his lips. The three surrounded the ring, leaving Maddox with no exit. Hopping onto the apron, they slowly stepped into the ring. But Brad was quick and went right for Dean although his efforts were useless as Seth and Roman came at him from behind, punches raining down on his back.

Roman floored the smaller man with a devastating clothesline before the three pulled him to his feet and hauled him in the air, slamming him against the mat with a spine shattering powerbomb. Reigns let out a roar but John's Cena's music filled the air, interrupting their brief show of dominance. Blood curdling anger covered all members of The Shield's faces and Seth angrily pulled the tie from his hair, water misting into the air. They eyed the ramp where Cena was supposed to appear but instead he began coming down through the crowd, exactly as The Shield had done moments before. His music was followed by Ryback's and then Sheamus' music and the two main-eventers followed Cena down to the ring, through the crowd.

Wanting nothing to do with the three men, The Shield retreated from the ring and Ashley followed them as they headed for the ramp. Their swift exit was quickly knocked on it's ass as the locker room took to the stage, sick to the back teeth of The Shield throwing their weight about with no consequences Running back to the ring, fear in their eyes, The Shield were cornered with no where to go.

Back-to-back inside the ring, the three members of the group watched with wide eyes as Ryback, Cena and Sheamus entered the ring and then fists were flying everywhere. It was a fair fight; three against three, something that The Shield were entirely unused to. They fought back against their assailants but they were overpowered and Seth ducked out of the ring, followed closely by Roman and then Dean joined them, hopping back over the barricade. He had pulled back but his face showed the anger he felt at being out played by the three men in the ring.

Cena's music flowed through the arena once more as The Shield backed up through the crowd, staring down John, Ryback and Sheamus from the steps. Dean held his jaw, sore from a punch he'd taken in the ring and Ashley turned away from them to photograph the three men in the ring, ending the live edition of Raw with a series of snaps from different angles.

* * *

Ashley carried her camera backstage with her. She'd been one of the first to leave the stage of the arena, wanting to make sure her photographs were suitable to be used on the website. She flicked through some images and stopped on the one of Jon hopping over the barricade as he'd approached the ring. Rubbing a hand across her mouth, Ashley let out a deep breath. Her eyes fell upon his beautifully sculpted biceps; strong, defined and completely unmarked. The moisture in her mouth dried up as she looked to his face, zooming in on his eyes. They were cold and calculating and she wondered what he'd been thinking about in that moment. Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of it. There was no use dwelling on what was going through Jonathan Good's mind. He was a closed book to her now.

_END OF CHAPTER_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four - Tricks Of Trade_

Ashley was tucked away in a corridor of the XL Center in Hartford, CT. She was currently huddled on a stack of crates that had been used to transport electrical equipment to the show. She held her camera - a Canon 5D Mark III - in her hands, flicking through images she had shot over the course of the weeks she had been on the road so far. There were several pictures that she had taken on her own time - something to document her travels between the shows. Photography wasn't just her job - it was her passion.

"You know," a voice drawled and Ashley found herself smiling. "A pretty little thing like yourself might get into trouble all on her own."

Ashley looked up to see Jon approaching her, already in his ring gear. He came to stand in front of her, boxing her in with his hands pressed against the crates at either side of Ashley's knees.

"And you shouldn't be wondering these corridors all by yourself either. You lot have made quite a few enemies around here," she joked with him, looping the strap of her camera around her neck.

Jon clucked his tongue at her. "It's cute that you're so concerned about me," his lips lifted at one side and Ashley couldn't control the flutter in her stomach. "But you shouldn't worry about me, baby. I can take 'em all," his eyes flashed with that psychotic aura so familiar to his previous character, Jon Moxley.

Ashley licked her lips, fiddling with a few dials on her camera before she lifted it up to place her eye against the viewfinder. Jon moved away as quick as lightening, covering his face from Ashley's lens.

"Oh c'mon, just one for the road. You know you're so fucking photogenic," she giggled, trying to wiggle her camera to the right angle in order to capture an image of him.

"No fucking way!" he growled, reaching out with one arm to bat her camera away. "Get away!" he snapped but she could tell he wasn't being that serious. Lowering the camera, Ashley glared at him as he finally uncovered his face. "Don't you get enough images of my ugly ass out at the ring to satisfy yourself?"

"Well, honestly, it's not really in my job role to take pictures of your ass but I could make an exception if you really-" Ashley erupted into a fit of laughter as Jon reached over to tickle her, his fingers digging into her sides. "Stop!" she screamed when she felt her stomach begin to ache from all the laughing.

Jon finally relented, pulling his hands back to look at Ashley with a self-satisfied smirk. She glared at him, tutting under her breath, her chest rising and falling quickly from the screaming and laughing. It was nice to be this laid back in his presence. Ashley had been scared of what had become of them, given their past, but it was nice to have a sense of normality around each other.

Someone cleared their throat and Ashley glanced around Jon to see Punk standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels with a nervous expression on his face.

"Sorry for interrupting but, Ashley, your dad is looking for you."

"Cool," Ashley nodded to him before turning back to Jon. "Good luck in your match tonight and I'll see you out there," she leaned forward to press a brief kiss to his cheek before hopping off the crates and walking off with Punk. Ashley turned to look over her shoulder at Jon, who was still leaning against the crates and watching the two with an unreadable expression as they walked away. She waggled her fingers at him, sticking her tongue out for effect.

* * *

Ashley and Punk walked in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

"So, you and Ambrose huh? You know each other well?" Punk glanced over at her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as they walked. "You two have a thing going on?" he added.

"No," Ashley guffawed. "We don't have a thing going on," she shook her head at him. "We're just really good friends. We met in the independents," the photographer clarified.

"Cool," he shrugged as they continued on walking. "You know this is kind of weird, right?"

"What's weird?" Ashley turned her head up to look at him as she hooked one arm through the strap of her camera so that it was secured snugly against her back.

"Being around you. It's been like 10 years since I saw you and you've clearly changed. A lot," he stressed.

"We all change, Punk. Though I'm not sure that I could say the same for you," Ashley motioned with her hand to him. "You seem to be pretty much the same. Sure, the hair's a little shorter and you've got a few more tattoos. But you're pretty much still the same guy you've always been," Ashley responded as they reached the green room where Paul spent his time before each show. "Though if it's so weird, why don't you just ask me out for a drink already?"

"I don't drink," Punk frowned down at her as they stopped outside the door.

"I know you don't," Ashley rolled her eyes at him. "But I do. So I'll have a drink, you'll have a Pepsi and we'll catch up. Everybody is happy," she grinned at him.

Before he had a chance to say anything else, Ashley opened the door to the green room and stepped inside, leaving the door open for Punk to follow her.

"Dad," she smiled at her father as she stepped inside. "Punk said you were looking for me?"

Paul turned in his seat, glancing over his shoulder to see his oldest daughter approaching him.

"Sweetheart," he greeted her. "Yes, I was looking for you. I was going to ask how you feel about coming home with me this weekend. Azalea and Jacob miss you, they've been asking about you."

Ashley considered this for a moment. She knew about her father's recent split from his wife, Maria. And she knew that it was taking it's toll on him; being a single father and being away from his children. Her father had done the best that he could with her whilst her mother was off trotting around the globe in search of her next rich conquest. But life on the road was no place for a kid, especially not two as young as Azalea and Jacob.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, I'm the city this weekend anyway so I'm sure I can free up my schedule to spend a few days with my old man and my family."

"Punk will be joining us," Paul warned her. "I hope that you don't mind but we've got some business to talk over."

Ashley chanced a glance at Punk who had now taken a seat in one of the chairs that were dotted around the room, his hands shoved into the front pockets of the grey hoodie he wore. Well, thanks for the warning, she thought.

"I don't see why that should be an issue," she shrugged as she turned back to her father.

Ashley could see why her father had formed such a close bond with the Chicago native. Until Jacob had come along, Punk was the son her father had never had. Sure, he loved his daughters but they weren't the kind to talk shop with. Her father needed someone to pass on all his tips and tricks to and at this point in time, Jacob was much too young for all that.

And for Punk. Well, her father was the only one who had ever given him a chance. Nobody in the business thought he was built to withstand the ups and downs of being a professional wrestler. But Paul Heyman had seen something in Phil Brooks that no other road agent or manager or talent scout had ever seen before. He'd seen the thirst to be on top, the hunger to be the best. And he'd molded Punk into perfection - given him the chance to show that he had what it took.

One thing she did know was that the two of them were up to something but she just didn't know what it was yet. Perhaps a few days spent in their company would shine a light on their antics.

"Well, that's good, sweetheart," Paul looked over to Punk before looking back to his daughter.

"Look, I've got to get out to the ring so I will leave you two alone to conspire," she grinned. "And I'll see you in New York this weekend, Dad," Ashley bent to press a kiss to her dad's cheek. Turning on her heel, she headed for the door, brushing by Punk as she did so. "Nicely done, Punk. I guess I'll see you in The Big Apple," she told him on her way out.

_END OF CHAPTER_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five - For A Moment Your Eyes Open_

Ashley flexed her arms, straining as she carried her bags through the front door of her father's house in Westchester, New York. She could hear the quiet hum of the television in the background and a glance into the living room provided her with a view of Azalea and Jacob curled up on a large bean cushion that had been sprawled out on the floor, both fast asleep.

A smile curled Ashley's lips at the sight of her sweet, innocent, younger siblings. Placing her two bags down quietly, she shuffled through the house and quietly as she could, she made her way into the kitchen. A delicious smell wafted into her nose and the photographer smiled as she realised her father had cooked her favourite meal; homecooked spaghetti bolognese.

Reaching into the fridge, Ashley grabbed a bottle of water and was taking a sip when she heard footsteps on the stairs. They descended and were heading in her direction and Ashley was surprised to see Punk poking his head around the corner of the kitchen.

Ashley jumped at the sight of him, water trickling down her chin and onto the floor. Chuckling, she shook her head at him, not amused by the smirk that pulled at his lips.

"Punk!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "You gave me the fright of my life."

Reaching for a cloth, Ashley wiped up the water from the floor and dabbed at the front of her shirt to blot away the dampness.

"Why are we whispering?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Az and Jake are sleeping," Ashley told him, referring to her siblings by her nicknames for them. "I'm going to put them to bed in a minute. Where's my dad?"

"He's upstairs in his office. He asked me to come down and make sure that it was you that we heard coming in," Punk shrugged, approaching the island in the middle of the kitchen and bracing his forearms against the dark grey marble counter top. "When did your flight land?"

"I've been here a few hours but I stopped at a friend's to make arrangements for tomorrow," Ashley replied, turning to place her water bottle on the counter. She moved through the kitchen and Punk followed her into the sitting room.

"What's happening tomorrow?" Ashley heard him ask. She turned to direct a glare in his direction but Punk only held her gaze. "I'm only asking," he added.

"My friend is doing a shoot in the city," Ashley explained. "I said I would help her," she whispered as she reached for the remote to turn the TV off. The room became dark and silent - what little light that had been coming from the TV disappearing - and Ashley bent down to scoop up Jacob. "I'll have to come back for Az," she thought out loud to herself.

Before she could take another step, Punk had crouched down and scooped Ashley's little sister up, bundling her into his arms. The little brunette haired girl pushed her face into Punk's shoulder, murmuring something sleepily before coiling her arms around his neck.

"I got her," Punk told Ashley. "Lead the way."

Ashley - shocked and surprised by Punk's actions - shook her head and headed for the stairs in the hallway, slowly climbing them to the second floor of her father's house. Faint noises were coming from his office where he and Punk had probably been studying some matches and at the sound of their footsteps, he called out to them. Ashley stepped up to his office and nudged the door with her foot, swinging it open quietly. She motioned for him to be quiet and he smiled one of those fatherly grins when he saw his eldest daughter and Punk with his other two sleeping children.

"I didn't realise they had fallen asleep," Paul explained as he checked his watch. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he apologised to Ashley. "I guess we just got carried away in here."

"It's okay, Dad. We'll put them to bed. Punk will be back to join you soon."

Ashley managed to free her hand to tug the door closed again and she turned to lead Punk down the hall to where Jacob and Azalea's bedrooms were. Putting Jacob into his bed first, Ashley tugged his socks off and then flipped the covers over him. The nine year old snuggled into his pillow as Ashley pressed a kiss to his forehead. She flipped the switch on his night light before shutting his door over. Azalea was next and Ashley managed to maneuver her out of Punk's arms without waking her up. Azalea held tight to Ashley as she placed her in bed. Smoothing a hand across her chocolate curls, Ashley managed to get Azalea to let go.

"Thank you for helping me," Ashley said to Punk as she closed Azalea's door.

"No problem. I've got nieces and nephews and a few of my friends have kids. I'm used to it," he shoved his hand into the pockets of the hoodie he wore. "You're good with them."

"I guess so," Ashley felt her cheeks warm at his compliment. She turned to him in the hall outside her father's office and tucked her hair behind her ears which revealed the silver dragon ear cuff she wore on her left ear and the several different piercings she had in her right one; including a scaffolding through the top, three studs in her lobe and a hoop through her tragus. "They don't get to see as much of me as I would like. And it will be even worse now that I'm traveling with the company."

"I'm sure they appreciate all the time you spend with them. It's not like they're going to forget you, you are their sister," Punk reassured her. "I guess I should get back. Your dad wants to talk about a lot of stuff."

"Okay. And thanks again," Ashley added as she headed for the stairs. "Tell my dad that I said goodnight."

* * *

Ashley was standing in the kitchen the following morning, a glass of fresh orange juice in her hand, when Azalea and Jacob came running in, screaming at her. They gathered around her, jumping up and down and tried to hug her, Jacob only managing to reach to her waist.

"Ashley," Azalea said, dragging her name out in sheer happiness. "You're here!"

Chuckling, Ashley reached down to ruffle Azalea and Jacob's hair, scooting them towards the island in the middle of the kitchen. Lifting Jacob up, she placed him on the counter and Azalea took a seat on one of the breakfast stools.

"I am," she smiled enthusiastically. "How are you two? How's school?"

At the mention of their place of learning, the two children just let out long, low groans. Ashley simply laughed at them and asked Azalea to watch Jacob while she made them some breakfast.

The two kids were in the midst of eating their scrambled eggs when Punk strolled into the kitchen, in the process of tugging a t-shirt down over his chest. He jumped back in surprise when he saw the three occupants of the room and Ashley could have sworn she saw a slight blush taint his cheeks.

"Jeez, you guys are early risers," he commented a little husky, tiredness on the edge of his voice.

"I guess that would be my fault," Ashley, who had already showered and gotten dressed, replied. "Didn't you sleep? You look tired."

Punk simply shrugged and strode over to the fridge. "You don't mind if I grab a drink?" he swiftly changed the subject.

"Not at all," Ashley shook her head.

Punk wasn't used to being this polite in Paul's house. Having known the man for years, he'd become accustomed to treating his manager's house like his own. But he figured that with Ashley being around, that having manners wouldn't hurt anybody.

Punk poured himself a glass of the same orange juice that Ashley had been drinking and took a long gulp from the glass. Turning to the two younger kids, he grinned at them.

"So what are you two ragamuffins up to today?" he questioned.

"Friend's house," Azalea muttered through a mouthful of egg.

"Az," Ashley tutted at her. "You know not to speak with your mouth full."

"Sorry," the ten year old muttered as she swallowed her food. Ashley shook her head at her little sister and hopped off the counter, her bare feet connecting with the tiled floor.

"So what about you Punk?" Ashley asked as she took away Jacob's empty plate, telling him to go and get washed up and dressed. "I assume that you two will be talking business?" Ashley's eyes twinkled with amusement, her lips twitching.

"A little bit. I think I'll squeeze a run in but I'm pretty much free the whole day. You're heading into the city right?"

Ashley nodded. "Yes. My friend is shooting today and I said I would model for her," Ashley rolled her eyes as she filled the basin with soapy water and took Azalea's now empty plate as well. The ten year old left the room to get herself washed up and dressed too, leaving Punk and Ashley alone. "I'm not sure why I put myself through these things," Ashley continued. "I chose to be a photographer because I cannot stand being in front of the camera," she laughed.

"Really?" Punk's lips twitched in amusement. "That is kind of funny," his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, bumping her shoulder as she washed the dishes. "So what kind of shoot is it?"

"She's scored a big spread with a magazine, actually. It's quite a big thing for her," Ashley pulled the plug in the sink and let the dirty water drain away. "What's with all the questions?" she asked, turning to brace her back against the sink. "You seem awfully interested in my shoot."

Punk shrugged innocently. "I'm just curious. I wondered if you wanted to get that drink? You know, to catch up. Properly that is."

Ashley sucked in a breath.

"Sure," she nodded. "Why don't you come by the shoot about one?" she moved over to the island where she tore a strip of paper off a notepad that was sitting there. Jotting down an address, Ashley turned to hand the paper to Punk. "It's in SoHo," she explained to him as she pulled her leather jacket off the back of one of the stools and swung it on, threading her arms into it. "I should get going just now. Enjoy your run," a smile formed on Ashley's lips as she picked up her bag and left Punk standing in the kitchen.

* * *

Punk could hear music drifting down the long corridor of the apartment block in SoHo where Ashley had told him to come. There wasn't anybody around and he felt a little nervous as he followed the sound of the music. The telltale clicking of a camera could be heard and instructions being shouted out led him to an apartment at the end of the hallway.

He knocked the knuckle of his index finger against the chipped wooden door, hoping that someone would answer him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and slipped through the crack, closing it behind him. The apartment was a studio loft and was all cast iron and red brickwork inside. Large arched windows opened up onto a view of downtown SoHo and allowed beams of sunshine to stream in through the windows. Slowly walking around, Punk followed the sound of the voice.

"Uh, hello?" he called out, rounding the corner to see a photographer snapping away, taking pictures of a fashionably dressed blonde girl who stood against a white backdrop. The photographer turned around and narrowed her green eyes at him.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked. "This is a closed shoot!" she barked at him.

"Sorry," he held his hands up. "I'm looking for Ashley."

The photographer rolled her eyes at him, flicking a lock of her purple hair over her shoulder. "Yo! Ash! Somebody is here for you!" she called out before looking back to Punk. Her eyes traveled over him, top-to-bottom, and then she turned back to her shoot, continuing to call out instructions to the model.

Smirking, Punk shook his head. He felt sort of violated. The way the photographer's gaze had roved over him had left him feeling like a piece of meat. Normally, in his line of work, he felt like that a lot. But in this case, he was actually dressed rather smartly instead of prancing around in his tiny wrestling trunks.

"Greer! Which top do you think goes best?" Punk turned at the sound of Ashley's voice and he came face-to-face with her, standing in a pair of tight black jeans and a black bra, holding out two different swathes of material. Purple paint was smeared across her right hip and there was a smidgen of blue across her shoulder as well.

"Oh hey!" she grinned when she saw him and attempted to quickly pull on one of the shirts and cover herself. "You're a little early," she checked her watch as she pulled the fabric over her head but not before he could see the large peacock feather tattoo that ran the length of her torso; from her hip right to the side of her left breast, disappearing under the cup of her bra. "I'll be ready in five minutes," she disappeared again, leaving Punk wondering when he'd missed the part where she'd grown up.

_END OF CHAPTER_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six - I'm A Betting Woman_

Ashley balanced the wedge of her shoe on the foot rest of the stool Punk sat on in front of her. They had walked the five minutes to Greenwich Village from SoHo, taking refuge in Barrow's Pub. Business was just beginning to pick up, given the time of day and Punk and Ashley had taken stools at the very corner of the bar, hidden away from the prying eyes of everybody else in there.

The pub was typical of it's kind; a dive bar. With a bar stocked full of alcohol, a pool table and a jukebox for entertainment, the bar was perfect for two low key people, like Ashley and Punk, who did not want to attract attention to themselves.

Taking a swig from the bottle of cheap beer which sat in front of her on a tatty dogeared mat, Ashley glanced at Punk, who was already watching her. He had a can of Pepsi in front of him and he ran his finger around the metal rim as he watched her.

"What? Are you going to grass me up to daddy because I'm drinking beer?" Ashley smirked at him, necking another mouthful of the alcohol.

"No," Punk shook his head at her. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"Curious?" Ashley questioned him. "About what?" she added, fiddling with the label of the beer bottle.

"About you," Punk replied, taking a sip of his Pepsi. "I want to know more about you," he clarified.

"More about me? What would you like to know that you don't already?" Ashley asked, tucking the end of her hair behind her ear at one side.

Punk shrugged, taking another drink of his Pepsi. "Well, I mean, we've not seen each other in, like, years. What happened? I'd like to know how you became...t-the Ashley I see now," he faltered mid-sentence as he tried not to insult her.

Rolling her eyes, Ashley decided to put him out of his misery.

"I was a shy, sheltered teenager the last time we met. It's only natural that I was going to grow up. My dad decided that it was best that I go back to school on a full time basis and he kept me in Westchester. At the time he was the on-screen GM for Smackdown. I understood, you know. It was a big time for him, and to be fair, it was big for me too. I was able to concentrate on my schooling and really decide what I wanted out of life," Ashley explained.

"And being a WWE photographer is what you want?"

Ashley shrugged. "Well, I mean, not necessarily a WWE photographer. I love the business, there's no doubt about that. But I'm not emotionally invested in it, like yourself or my dad. My passion is photography. But if I get to mix that with something else that I love too, well then, happy fucking days," she replied, taking another swig of beer.

Punk couldn't help but laugh at her. She had such a simple outlook on life. She knew what made her happy and what didn't. He liked that in a woman, in a person - straight to the point.

"I don't know what you're laughing at," Ashley continued. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he shook his head and took a drink of Pepsi. "You're just so straight forward," he responded to her demanding look. "It's refreshing to see someone else like me."

"Oh, come on. We're nothing alike," the raven haired photographer shook her head at him. Punk stared back at her skeptically. "Okay, Mr Brooks," Ashley said, using his real surname for the first time. "Name one thing that we really have in common? Apart from the fact we both love wrestling."

Punk let out a breath and seemed to think about it for a few moments.

"Well, we both seem to like a bit of ink," Punk finally replied. "Don't think I didn't see that rather large piece on your side. I bet your dad doesn't know about that?" he grinned confidently, his lip ring catching the light.

"No," she admitted. "My dad doesn't know about it," she ran her finger around the rim of her beer bottle. "I think that sometimes he still thinks I'm this little girl who needs to be wrapped in cotton wool, who needs to be protected from the dangers of the big bad world," there was a sadness to Ashley's voice as she told Punk this. "I think he forgets that I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"He's just trying to be your dad," Punk reassured her. "Hell, I wish my dad could have been someone like Paul Heyman. If I had that kind of influence in my life when I was growing up, maybe my life would have been a little different."

As Ashley watched him, Punk seemed to get this far off look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something that he didn't want to talk about.

"Well," Ashley broke into his thoughts, swigging the last of her beer and putting the bottle down on the bar with thud. "I happen to think that you're a pretty cool guy. You've got your beliefs, Punk, and you stand up for them no matter who tells you that they're wrong. You've got a strong character and you should be proud of that. Shit, if Jake grows up to be anything like you, then I can say that I'll be extremely proud to be his big sister."

"Damn, you'll make me cry," Punk sniffed, wiping a fake tear from underneath his eye.

Ashley laughed. "Right, enough of this sappy bullshit. I challenge you to a game of pool."

"What are the stakes?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"How about if you lose, you have to let me take a series of pictures of you?"

"And when you lose, what will you give me?" he asked, confidence seeping in to his words. Ashley tried to think of something that she had to give him but Punk held up his hand. "Let's just say that when I beat you, you owe me one."

"Deal!" Ashley agreed, sliding off her stool to make her way to the unmanned pool table. "You're on. Rack 'em up."

* * *

Punk and Ashley left Barrow's Pub, the two of them creased up with laughter.

"You shouldn't make bets that you can't win, sugar," Punk told her, one hand braced over his middle, indicating that his stomach was aching from so much laughter.

"C'mon! You so cheated. You reeled me in with the premise that you were crap," she insisted. "How was I supposed to know that I was playing against the three time neighbourhood champion?"

"Mm, I think you'll find that was four," Punk grinned, holding up four fingers on his left hand, his eyes crinkling. "You are aware that you owe me that favour now. And I am going to call it in whenever I see fit."

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Ashley groaned out loud. "Well, you win some, you lose some. So, what is this prestigious favour that I'm going to owe you?" she bumped her shoulder against his.

"Ha! Now that would be telling," his eyes grew wide. "You'll know when I'm cashing it in, trust me," Punk met her eyes - his hazel against her bright green orbs. Ashley's breath caught in the back of her throat and she felt a flipping feeling occurring in her stomach. "C'mon, we should get back," Punk broke their stare first. "Your dad will think I dragged you off so some God-forsaken hellhole," he pressed his hand to the back of Ashley's shoulder, over her leather jacket and began to guide her back down the sidewalk towards the rental car that he'd left parked near the studio in SoHo.

_END OF CHAPTER_


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven - Fragments Of A Tainted Past_

The noise around Ashley was deafening as the WWE Universe made their presence known. The cheers roared in her ears and brought a smile to her face as she snapped away at ringside. Her weekend trip to Westchester had left her feeling relaxed and refreshed. Spending time with her family was one of things that Ashley loved best. She still hadn't come any closer to finding out what her father and Punk were planning and it was beginning to tick her off. She knew that the two of them were conspiring to create something big for the summer but she hadn't the slightest clue about what it might be.

Heading backstage, Ashley passed a few of the backstage runners and other employees as she made her way to the green room where she kept all of her things.

"Ashley!" She heard someone call her name. Turning on the spot, she smiled in greeting as the COO Paul 'Triple H' Levesque approached her. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, stalling her movements. "Look," he started, smoothing his other hand down over his single breasted suit jacket. "I just want to tell you what great work you're doing out there, darling. It's not often that we hire new permanent photographers but I can see that you are and will continue to be an asset to us. You're doing a heck of job, kid."

"I am willing to bet that you never thought you'd be saying that to me," Ashley chuckled at him as she securely hooked her camera over her neck.

"You're right," he wrapped his arm around her and the two of them continued to head down the corridor in the direction that Ashley had originally been heading. "I never thought you'd have anything to do with this business, Ash. You always seemed to have other interests. When your old man tried to teach you the ropes, you didn't have a care in hell."

"Oh my God! I was, like, 17!" Ashley protested but with a smile. "Of course I had other interests, I was still a child."

"Yeah, I know. But regardless, I'm happy to see you've put your knowledge of the business to good use. It's great to see that some of our kids are still interested in what we do, even if it's not in the ring."

"I love this business, I love everything about it. But could you imagine me in the ring? Seriously? I was all fingers and thumbs. I mean, I have got a pretty mean jab in my repertoire but that's about it. No, the ring will never be the place for me. I'd rather my feet stayed on solid ground, thank you very much."

Paul started to laugh and opened his mouth to retort when his phone began to trill from his pocket. He apologised but Ashley insisted that it was okay because she had to be on her way anyway. They said their goodbyes and he answered his phone, sending a wave at Ashley as she walked off. One of the best things about being the daughter of such a big figure in the wrestling business was all the connections that you made. Ashley knew people associated with so many different promotions; ones that were willing to give her a job should she snap her fingers, but the photographer was far more interested in getting work on her own merit. She didn't want to feed off of her father's name. But she liked having the connections. She liked knowing so many different people that she could rely on should there ever come a time when she needed to.

Hearing commotion come from somewhere ahead of her, Ashley strutted forward as she heard someone curse. Rounding the corner of the corridor, Ashley spotted Jon standing in one of the little nooks in the corridor, his forehead pressed against the glass of one of the vending machines which stood there. He lifted his hand and slammed his palm against the machine, cursing again as the machine shook.

"You okay?" Ashley gingerly approached him, unsure of the mood he was in. He had seemed fine during the show but then again, he was in character whilst out there.

Jon glanced over his shoulder to look at her, his eyes hooded and if she didn't know better, slightly sad.

"Yeah, Tink, I'm fine. Just this piece of shit machine ate my money," he turned and gave the vending machine another shake. "Fucking dammit!"

"You sure you're okay? C'mon, it's not like you to eat candy," Ashley joked.

Jon shrugged. "Yeah, well, I seem to be doing a lot of shit that isn't like me recently," he pivoted and pressed his back against the machine, his shoulders slumping.

"Oh no, there's that sad face. I remember that all too well," Ashley groaned and shook her head. "What's up with you?"

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jon shrugged. "Nothing. Don't really want to talk about it."

"That's two different answers, bonehead. Either it's nothing or you just don't want to talk about, both of which are very unlikely. You forget that I know you. How about this? How about we get out of here and head back to the hotel? We'll grab that drink you've been talking about for weeks and we can talk about what's not wrong with you?" Ashley suggested. "I'm buying," she added as she saw Jon wavering towards saying no. "It's not like you to turn down free booze," she began to back up, holding her hand out to him, waggling her fingers. "C'mon, you won't leave me sitting all alone in that big bar will you?" She playfully pouted.

Jon sucked in a breath through his teeth before he pushed himself off the vending machine and reached out to grab Ashley's hand in his own. The raven haired girl laughed gleefully and started to pull him down the corridor and Jon laced their fingers together as they walked.

* * *

Jon's silence in the cab on the way back to the hotel, unnerved Ashley. He wasn't the most vocal person by any means but she knew deep down when something was irking him. And there as definitely something on his mind. She wished he would just come out and tell her but that wasn't like him at all. When it came to getting the wrestling superstar to open up, you had to go fishing.

Jon walked ahead of Ashley into the hotel, one hand shoved into his jean pocket and the other gripping the strap of his duffel bag. He headed in the direction of the bar but Ashley cleared her throat behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"C'mon, you look like you need some privacy," Ashley motioned in the direction of the elevators. Jon simply shrugged and then followed Ashley, stepping into the elevator behind her, knowing that he would go anywhere that there was free drink. The two of them pressed their backs against the back wall of the elevator and Ashley hooked her arm around Jon's, pressing her head against his shoulder. "I wish you would tell me what's up with you," Ashley muttered. "You used to talk to me all the time."

"Ash," Jon sighed. "Look, it's nothing bad, okay. I'm just not sure you're the person I should be talking to about it," Jon explained as the elevator stopped and he stepped out. As Ashley followed him, she guessed they were heading for his room instead. Jon stalked down the hall in front of her, stopping outside his room. He slid the key card into the door and it turned green before he shoved the door open.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ashley asked from behind him, following him into the room. Throwing her own bag down at the foot of his bed, Ashley placed her hands on her hips as she stared Jon down.

Jon let out a sigh and turned to face her. Running his hands through his hair, he couldn't fight the smile from forming on his lips as the sight of Ashley. "Look at you! Standing there like a right little fucking madam," Jon joked, starting to laugh.

Ashley pushed her tongue around in her mouth, trying not to laugh. His smile was infectious and she couldn't help the one she felt forming on her own lips. "It isn't funny!" She tried with all her might to glare at him but it had the opposite effect. Jon moved closer to her, pulling her into his arms, his lips brushing the top of her head.

"Let's order room service," he said against her hair. "I need a drink and then we'll talk."

* * *

A little over an hour later, Ashley reeled back on her knees, giggling as she and Jon reminisced about the days that they had met. They were talking about Reby Sky and the infuriating crush that she had on him back in Dragon Gate USA. The producers and writers had forced them into an angle together and Reby had tried to dig her claws into him. Unbeknownst to her, Jon had been going through a particularly rough patch off screen and had turned to Ashley. No matter the amount of times Jon told Reby that he wasn't interested, she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Do you remember when she tried to kiss you after your match?" Ashley giggled, swigging from the glass of whiskey in her hand. Sitting back on her haunches, she swallowed the mouthful of alcohol. "She was all over you, man. I thought she was pretty much going to just jump on you."

Jon groaned, shaking his head as he tossed back the last of his glass of whiskey. He'd been for a shower in the time that they had been at the hotel and had now changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His feet were bare and he had his legs folded together on the bed.

"She was a fucking little pain in my ass," he ran a hand through his hair, swaying a little from the effects of the whiskey.

"Yeah," Ashley let out a breath. "We've got some good memories from back then," she added.

"And some not so good ones," Jon muttered darkly, his gaze settling on Ashley.

"I think that you have had just about enough to drink," Ashley leaned forward to take the bottle from him. But Jon was quicker and he managed to not only toss the bottle out of Ashley's reach but he also caught her in his arms, his hands cupping her face.

"I'll decide when I've had enough," Jon said, his forehead coming to rest against her own. Wrapping one end of her hair around his fingers, Jon pushed the locks behind her ear, smoothing the thumb of his other hand up and down Ashley's jaw. "I missed you," his voice got thicker, deeper. "When you left, you know that?"

"Jon," Ashley gasped his name out, curling her fingers around both of his wrists. "Please, don't do thi-"

Ashley's speech was cut off by Jon's mouth coming down over her own, hot and heavy. For someone who had consumed so much alcohol, his kisses were far from sloppy and Ashley could still taste the tang of mint toothpaste on his breath as he dragged his tongue across her bottom lip. Unable to deny him, Ashley opened her mouth to him and sunk down onto his lap, her arms finding their way around Jon's neck. She sucked hard on his bottom lip, eliciting a growl from the back of Jon's throat. His hands moved down lower, away from her face as he traced a finger along the waistband of her jeans, teasing her.

Ashley's head was swimming, her mind racing as she found herself being consumed by Jon. She had never been able to resist him and the several years they'd been apart had made no change to that. He overwhelmed her in a way that no other person had ever been able to - but that wasn't always a good thing - as Ashley had come to realise in the past.

Her back hit the mattress and Ashley felt Jon move over her, his hands sliding up her sides, gently dipping underneath the shirt she wore.

Suddenly it all became too much for Ashley as memories from their time before came rushing back to her. Pushing at Jon's shoulders, the photographer broke the kiss and scrambled from the bed. Trying in vain to shove on the flats that she had removed when she came in, Ashley saw that her hands were shaking and her lips were tingling.

"Tink, come back, c'mon," Ashley heard Jon trying to get up off of the bed. He staggered to his feet, tiredness and the alcohol effecting him.

"Please don't do this to me again, Jon," Ashley pleaded, picking up her bag as she headed for the door, not looking back at him.

"Ash!" Jon called out to her, his tone almost desperate. "Ashley, stop! Is this about Indiana?"

_End Of Chapter_

**A/N:** I want to thank everyone who has followed, favourited, alerted and most definitely reviewed this story. I've worked hard on it and the feedback makes it worth while. At the moment, I've actually broken my laptop and had to comandere my mum's laptop to post this. I'm not sure when the next time I'll be able to post something will be. hope you all enjoyed the chapter. XxX


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